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‘Archers! To the wraiths!’ Wilder shouted, already unloading a second and third arrow into his target, surging for it as it fell, unsheathing his sword, ready to claim its heart. Thea was already there, slicing through its chest and tearing the black organ from the cavity. Another wraith fell from above, then another, brought down by the Guardian archers, Wilder and Thea making quick work of carving through flesh and bone. The men cheered as they did, but Wilder knew it was only the beginning —
‘Ready the catapults!’ he commanded, glimpsing Thea bringing down another winged monster, her light armour already smeared with black and red blood. It looked good on her.
The wall was gone. Or half of it, at least. Torchlight and fires illuminated the dust billowing into the air and the masses of rubble crushing countless men, ally and enemy alike. Attackers spilt into the castle courtyard through the maimed wall. And at the heart of it was Audra, her expression formidable, her knives carving through the madness and bringing down their foes.
He could have leapt to his feet, he could have surged towards her and planted himself between her and the monster. But this was not his fight, not anymore. As much as it caused his chest to seize and her name to catch on his lips, he gripped his sword beneath its hilt. ‘Thea!’ he shouted across the ruins. He threw his blade of Naarvian steel to her. Thea’s hand shot out, casting her own sword aside and catching his by the grip. Her arm didn’t buckle beneath its weight, nor did she so much as glance at him.
There, she slit its throat and stuck her dagger deep into its chest, sawing through those tough layers of flesh and bone. The creature thrashed, choking on its own blood. But its flailing limbs stilled as Thea reached into the front of its torso and tore its heart from its chest.
Seb, Vernich’s pathetic excuse for an apprentice, was shoving young shieldbearers between himself and a shadow wraith, sacrificing their lives for his. Fucking coward. The wraith screeched as it swiped at the less experienced soldiers with its talons, cleaving through flesh and bone.
A rumble sounded in the distance. Wilder turned back to the battlefield, his skin crawling, his heart in his throat. The missing Tverrian unit had made itself known. And they were now one with the enemy. Nothing remained of the human soldiers who had left their city to protect it. In their place were mutilated monsters of darkness, foaming at the mouth to get their claws into the men who now defended Notos, the men who had once been their comrades.
the missing Tverrian force had returned. But they were much changed. They were neither wraiths nor half-wraiths, but some mutilated, warped form of the two. Their bodies were twisted and leathered beneath their armour, reminding Thea of the vine blights she’d seen.
You are what stands between them and our world, so remember this: being a true Guardian of the midrealms is not about hating the evil before you, but loving the land and its people behind you. Remember that glory will not be found in failing to fall, but in rising from the chaos when you do.’
How many more hearts would she carve out before the battle was done? How many had Talemir Starling claimed before the midrealms had dubbed him the Prince of Hearts? A whip of darkness came for her.
You’re ready, you know.’ ‘Ready?’ ‘For the Great Rite. When you feel its call, you go. Drop everything and go. You will emerge a Warsword. The very best of us.’ Thea’s mouth fell open.
In the wake of war, there was always a jarring contrast between the joy of the survivors and the reality of the dead. That thick, putrid stench of death, of blood, shit and vomit, soured the air, all while kegs of ale were being split open and shared among the living.
She was covered in the filth of battle, but it only made her look more formidable. Every warrior who was able stood to attention. And to Wilder’s shock, they raised three fingers to their left shoulders.
With the rest of the camp around them, Wilder was mindful to peel their clothes away in silence, to clap his hand over her mouth as his teeth closed over a nipple, as he dragged a finger down her centre.
when it came to love, it wasn’t a single fall, but many, over and over. It was there in the grander gestures: slaying monsters, fighting furiously and making heartfelt declarations. But it was in the smaller, quieter moments that he felt it the most deeply – that shift at the very heart of him, where he fell for her beyond reason. His throat closed up as it hit him. He would forever be falling for Thea.
He memorised the way her lashes kissed the tops of her cheeks, the way her lips parted slightly and her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Then he dressed in silence, steeling himself with each piece of clothing, each piece of armour. He looked at Thea one last time. ‘I love you,’ he whispered, knowing that there was no going back from what he was about to do.
He forced one foot in front of the other and left the tent while he still had the strength. Tears stung his eyes, but he kept walking. No matter where he went, he would carry Thea with him. She was a part of him now, always.
Only someone who had burrowed deeply inside a heart could shatter it from within. ‘I did what I had to, Thea.’ ‘Don’t say my name,’ she hissed. ‘Don’t ever say my name again.’
Wilder went to them, letting the shadows whip around him, as though he didn’t fear the darkness, as though it were a part of him. He met Thea’s gaze. With that one brutal look, whatever had been between them severed.
All this time she’d worried about Vernich and Seb being the treacherous warriors in their midst, the ones she would have to track down across the realms in the end. But she’d been wrong. So completely and utterly wrong. It had been the Warsword in her bed, the Warsword who’d burrowed into her heart.
We watched as his Furies-given power corrupted him from within. As of now, the midrealms has two enemies. The forces of darkness who seek to wipe us from these realms, and the former Warsword who once swore to protect them.’
Osiris met her gaze across the table, his expression hardening. ‘You want him?’ he said, seething. ‘He’s yours. Hunt him down. Bring him Thezmarr’s justice.’ Each word was clipped and cold, sharp with fresh betrayal. ‘Do that, Althea Zoltaire, and his swords are yours.’
Regret coiled like a serpent in her gut. She had failed Thezmarr, failed the guild and aided a traitor in their midst. Thea had let him into her world, and he had wrought ruin upon the midrealms and her heart. She would not give way to an inch of weakness, not anymore.
Kipp snorted. ‘We love you, Thea, but it’s not like we don’t cherish having our balls attached to our bodies as well. We got leave from Osiris, Torj and Esyllt to join you. So just deal with it. You’re stuck with us.’ Thea felt a tiny piece of her heart fall back into place, and a smile ghosted across her lips. ‘Is that right?’ Kipp grinned. ‘Afraid so.’
to let her say goodbye to what she thought she’d known. Thoughts of the man who’d meant something – everything – to her consumed her. Silver eyes meeting hers. The rich timbre of his voice as they whispered secrets to each other in the night. The taste of him. His arms wrapped around her. Because I fucking love you. She had thought those words would be imprinted on her soul forever, but she shoved them away, letting them fade from her like shadows swept away by the wind.
Thea steeled herself, her armour sliding into place around her. Taking a breath, she silently thanked him for all he’d done.
For he had forged her into the warrior she needed to be to slay her enemies. And Wilder Hawthorne was now one of them.
With lightning sharp in her veins and her heart full of fire, Thea set out across the midrealms, the wind tearing at her braid as she rode east, the taste of vengeance on her lips. And so the hunt began.
